


No means No

by hypercharles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Rape, Rape Recovery, Sexual Assault, The Sheriff's name is Noah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:56:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypercharles/pseuds/hypercharles
Summary: Stiles's life has been filled with people who just don't care if he says no. They all just do what they want, anyway.orThe five times Stiles says no, and the one time someone actually listens





	No means No

**Author's Note:**

> so.... 
> 
> instead of updating my other fic, i present this 5000+ word plot bunny that struck me in the middle of my shower and demanded to be written. But if you read till the end, I'll give you a sneak peek into the update of "In The Basement."

The first time happens when Stiles is too young to truly understand what is going on. All he knows is this: 

For weeks, he had been looking forward to piano lessons. His mother always told him about how his long fingers would take him to magical places through the keys. 

He went to lessons for a month. They were at Mr. Jacobs’ house, because he had a nicer piano than the community center. His parents would drop him off and run errands during the hour long lesson. 

He didn’t like how the instructor touched him, sitting next to him on the bench close enough that Stiles could smell his cologne. He definitely didn’t like the way that the man would butcher his name, crooning to him in low voices; one hand was always guiding Stiles’s fingers on the keys while the other hand would rest between Stiles’s legs, rubbing slowly. He doesn’t like how Mr. Jacobs always ignores Stiles when he says no. 

His father came into the room unexpectedly halfway through one of the lessons. There was a lot of yelling and his father punched the man. 

He didn’t take any lessons after that. His mom would cry every time he asked why he wasn’t allowed to learn the instrument any more. 

The thing that sticks into his memory the most was how he would always flinch when people said his name wrong. His mom asked if it really bothered him that much, and Stiles softly explained that he hated when Mr. Jacobs tried to say his name. 

After that, his parents start calling him Stiles. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The second time it happens, Stiles is 9 years old. His mother has just died, and his father is drunk. Again. 

Stiles is at the grocery store, trying to figure out how much food he can buy with a ten dollar bill, and how much food he can fit in his backpack, anyway. He took his bike to the store, so he knows he needs to be careful not to buy more than he can carry. The cupboards are bare and his fridge is full of food from the funeral. Stiles can’t even look at the food, never mind eat it. 

A man sees him trying to do the math in his head, staring at two different brands of milk. He says he’s seen Stiles trying to shop, and that he wants to help. Stiles is immediately suspicious—he’s the son of the sheriff and he’s not stupid, either.

But he’s also hungry—really hungry. He hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast the previous day. The man offers to buy him a bunch of sandwich supplies, the milk, and the box of cheerios Stiles has already picked out. He says he just needs some advice about his own son in return. He even helps Stiles arrange it all in his backpack so that the bread won’t get crushed and the cereal box won’t get wet from the milk. 

All he wants is Stiles to help him pick out a birthday present for his kid. He asks if he’ll accompany him to the nearest toy store. Stiles gives him a once-over, trying to determine his true intentions. But he’s hungry, and really, helping find a toy is a small price to pay for all the food in his bag. 

The price turns out not to be so small. The car ends up in an alley two blocks from the toy store. For a few blessedly innocent moments, Stiles wonders how the man managed to get lost in a town as small as Beacon Hills. 

By the time it’s all over, Stiles doesn’t feel so innocent anymore. The man climbs into the back seat and perches next to Stiles. He tells Stiles about how he’s being such a good, brave boy. It makes Stiles want to puke—Melissa said the same thing at Claudia’s funeral. He cries and tells the man he doesn’t want to help him anymore. He wants to go home. 

The man slaps him across the face and shoves him to the car floor. Stiles doesn’t remember seeing the man take off his belt, but soon enough Stiles’s wrists have been tied together. The man shucks off his boxers and then undresses Stiles’s lower half. He plays with Stiles, squeezing until the boy cries. Then the man grabs Stiles by the hair and guides his face into his lap. Stiles cries harder and screams “No! No! No!” The man takes advantage of Stiles’s open mouth and shoves his dick into Stiles’s throat. He threads his fingers through Stiles’s hair, holding Stiles in place while he thrusts. 

It feels like an eternity before the man is done, making Stiles swallow the disgusting liquid that just came out of his penis. Stiles is still too young to understand the mechanics of what just happened, but he knows enough that it makes him feel filthy and violated. The man puts on his pants and belt again, and then he slaps Stiles in the face hard enough to send him back to the floor. 

“Slut,” he spits out. “You asked for this. Acting all cute and innocent. You were begging for this. Everyone will know you deserved this. If you tell anyone, all they’ll do is reject you. Or maybe even fuck you, as well. Lord knows your mouth was made to suck dick.” 

Stiles cries and begs the man to let him go. By the time the man dumps him by his bike, Stiles has managed to get his pants back on and to clear his face of snot, tears, and—

He throws up the second he’s in his own bathroom. He takes a shower so hot it burns him. He cries as hard as he dares, his father asleep in the next room. He puts his mom’s makeup over the bruises on his wrists. When the sheriff sees the mark on Stiles’s face, Stiles tells him that he fell off his bike. 

He refuses to eat the food that the man bought him, and goes hungry for another two days before his father thinks to go grocery shopping. 

Two weeks later, Stiles asks his dad if he can get a haircut. Noah doesn’t question it, knowing that grief can make you desperate for change. He shaves Stiles’s head that weekend. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The third time it happens, Stiles is in 7th grade. He’s hanging out with Nick, from his baseball team. Nick has stayed back a few grades and is two years older than Stiles. Stiles and Nick haven’t been friends for very long, but the two of them are easily the worst on the team, so they spend a lot of time together on the bench. 

He’s at Nick’s house. Nick doesn’t have a dad, and the two have bonded over the loss of a parent. They’re playing video games and giving each other stupid dares that they take off google. 

Stiles is playing a round of Mario Cart when Nick starts giggling at the computer. 

“What’s so funny,” Stiles asks. 

“This dare says to kiss a friend for seven minutes. How do you kiss for seven minutes? Just stand there with your lips together?” Nick looks very confused. 

Stiles, who has seen his share of soap operas and romcoms, explains that when you kiss, you tend to suck on each other’s tongues. Nick is appropriately grossed out by this technically correct but oversimplified explanation of making out. 

It only takes him a minute or so to move past disgust into curiosity. “Can you show me?” He asks. 

“Sure,” Stiles says. “Just google ‘french kissing.’” 

“No, I mean, will you kiss me? I don’t think I can learn from the internet.”

Stiles goes quiet for a minute and then pauses his race hesitantly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he starts. Nick cuts him off. 

“Please, Stiles? I don’t know when anyone else will ever kiss me. Everyone just thinks I’m stupid for being held back so many times.” Nick looks at Stiles hopefully. 

Stiles sighs. He didn’t think about that, and he does feel bad for Nick. 

“I—I guess we could try. But definitely not for seven minutes.” Stiles agrees. 

Nick cheers and then pulls Stiles onto his bed. Stiles feels a little wary but shoves the feeling aside. This is his friend, not a stranger in a van—

His brain shuts off when Nick leans over and kisses him. 

Stiles is immediately aware that Nick knows exactly how to kiss. Within 30 seconds, Stiles has been shoved onto his back, Nick laying over him. Nick forces his tongue into Stiles’s mouth, ignoring his muffled protests. He giggles and sits up for a moment. 

“Jesus, Stiles, you’re so fucking gullible. You’re so easy, it’s practically my job to fuck you.” 

Stiles flinches at the swear—he’s only heard it a few times in his life, and nothing good ever followed it. But he doesn’t have time to react beyond that before Nick is on his mouth again. Stiles tries to push him off, but Nick is four inches taller and a good 40 pounds heavier. 

Nick’s hands go down Stiles’s pants. He wraps his fingers around Stiles’s dick. By now Stiles is aware of how sex works, and a few internet searches have resulted in more than a few nights of guilty masturbation in the shower. He tries to buck Nick off of him, but Nick just laughs and starts to stroke, grinding his own erection into Stiles’s hip. Nick ignores Stiles’s pleas to stop, and only strokes faster every time Stiles says “no”. 

Nick has just managed to get Stiles to cum when Nick’s mom walks in. Nick immediately flies off of Stiles. Stiles scrambles to get his pants re-zipped, but it’s too late. The damage has been done. Nick’s mom starts screaming, calling him a faggot and cursing him for trying to corrupt her son. She calls the sheriff and doesn’t let Stiles move an inch before the man arrives. Stiles is barely able to get the zipper up before his dad enters the room. Noah’s eyes travel over Stiles’s swollen lips and unbuttoned pants, pausing on the obvious wet spot. 

Nick’s mother starts screaming the same vitriol at Noah, and she threatens to accuse Stiles of assault. Nick backs his mother’s words, saying that Stiles bullied him into masturbating with Stiles. He starts crying, blubbering about how he didn’t want to and how scared he was. Stiles doesn’t bother to argue, knowing anything he says will just make things worse. 

His dad finally manages to negotiate with Nick’s mother. She won’t go to the police, and Stiles will quit the baseball team. Stiles will operate under an unofficial restraining order, staying 50 feet away from Nick for the rest of the summer. 

On the way home, Noah pulls over and turns to look at Stiles. “Son, I know what happened with your piano teacher was really awful and confusing for you, and I know how hard you’ve been trying to make friends. But pressuring Nick into jerking off with you isn’t the way to go about discovering your sexuality. This could have been really bad for you, especially if she had insisted on pressing charges. I really want you to think about your future the next time you’re looking for a boyfriend.” 

With that, Noah turns away and starts the car again. They drive home in silence. Stiles doesn’t try to explain his side of the story. He doesn’t see what good making his dad upset would do for anyone. 

Nick moves away a few weeks later, and Stiles joins the lacrosse team the next fall. Noah never mentions the incident again. Stiles is more than happy to pretend it never happened. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The fourth time it happens is at the end of his freshman year. It’s at one of Lydia Martin’s parties. She gave an open invitation to the whole school. Stiles knows that there’s no way she’d actually care if he showed up or not, but Scott’s in the emergency room with a bad case of the stomach flu, and Stiles has nothing else to do. 

He thinks he’s hit the jackpot when a pretty junior girl starts talking to him. She giggles and touches his arm, and she smells so nice. Stiles gets tunnel vision, eyes only on her. She flips her hair over her shoulder and asks if he wants to get a drink. He says yes, and soon enough he’s sipping a coke while she laughs over a beer. He doesn’t dare get drunk—he knows his father would kill him. 

They end up kissing in the pool house. She guides his hand up her shirt and Stiles can barely breathe. This is so different from anything he’s ever experienced before. Soon her hands are up his shirt. He squirms a bit, not totally sold on the idea. She laughs. 

“This is your first time, right?” she asks. 

He nods. He’s never done anything with a girl, after all. Maybe girls actually listen. 

“That’s great.” She smiles, “I love playing with virgins. You guys are so much fun to break in.” 

Stiles shrinks back at this. “I don’t really want—” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs. “Of course you want me. I’m amazing and you’ll never get anything better. I mean, come on,” she rolls her eyes and flicks his nipple, making him jerk. “All limbs and moles, I’m the best you’re ever going to get.” 

Stiles closes his eyes. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this. “NO,” he says. “I don’t want this. I barely know you. I want to leave.” 

She laughs again and then pushes him against the couch. He trips and falls. She quickly climbs on top of him. 

“Don’t be a jerk, Stiles. You’ve been flirting with me all evening. You owe me this. You can’t just lead me on all night and then expect to leave without paying up.” 

Stiles wants to throw up. She grabs his belt and grinds her hips into his. Stiles is suddenly, violently, reminded of Nick. 

The girl’s hands have made quick work of his pants and boxers. She gets him hard quickly, and Stiles hates his body for enjoying this. Before he can resist her again, she’s got her mouth around his penis. He tries to twist away, but the threatening pressure of her teeth keeps him in place until he’s aching with need. He cries, wishing he had just stayed home. 

“Jesus, you’re a crybaby,” she says. “Get over it. What the fuck is wrong with you? You should be enjoying this, you freak.” She punctuates this by sitting on him, angling so he penetrates her pretty roughly. She sighs and her eyes flutter. 

Stiles turns his head away. He doesn’t want to look at her. Her hands roam his chest as she bounces herself on his groin. He prays for his erection to go away, begging any deity listening to stop this. 

It doesn’t stop. 

Soon enough, she’s pulled off just as he’s ejaculating. She laughs again, pulling her underwear back into place and adjusting her skirt. “Thanks for the ride, Stiles. See you later.”

Stiles lays there for a long time. It takes him about two hours to get himself upright, cleaned up, and out of there. 

He never wants to go to another party without Scott. 

He hates himself. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The fifth time, Stiles is sure he’s going to die. 

He’s in the locker rooms. He’s always one of the last to leave, because he hates changing in front of the other boys. He doesn’t want to be exposed like that. 

SO it catches him very much by surprise when someone interrupts him while he’s getting a fresh pair of boxers on. One minute he’s bent over, seemingly alone in the room; the next there’s a body pressing him into his locker, hands resting on his ass. He lets out what is definitely not a shriek, because he is 16 and 16-year-old boys do not shriek. 

The body presses closer, and Stiles hears laughing on both sides. There isn’t just one boy, he realizes. His stomach drops with fear. 

“What’s the matter, Stilinski?” one of the voices asks. “Didn’t expect company?”  
Stiles shakes his head, and the body on him lets him turn so Stiles can see who’s with him. There are three boys around him and Jackson is blocking the exit, not that Stiles would try to leave naked. Stiles swallows hard. 

“Can I—can I help you?” He stutters. 

One of the boys punches a nearby locker, and Stiles flinches hard. 

“Yeah, maybe you can,” he sneers. “Know the best place to find faggots?” 

The boy wearing a hat laughs. “I can answer that one,” he says. “Right in front of us.” 

They all laugh. One of the boys—in a Lakers jersey, Stiles notes absently—steps closer. “And what do we wanna do about it?” 

Stiles interrupts before anyone can answer. “Please, I’m not—” 

“You’re not what, Stilinski?” Jackson bites out. “Not a homo? Why else do you hang around while everyone else gets changed before you even take your shirt off?”

Hat-boy leers at Stiles. “I think it's because he’s trying to hide a hard-on,” he says. 

Stiles shakes his head violently. “No, I swear—”

Alex—the boy crowding him—puts his hand over Stiles’s face and slams his head into the lockers. Stiles lets out a groan and staggers. 

“I think we need to teach him a lesson,” Lakers Jersey says. “Show him what we do to queers. Teach him not to try and fuck with us.” 

Stiles is still shaking his head. “No, I don’t need—I don’t—please,” he begs. 

But the boys don’t listen. Soon Stiles is on the ground, being kicked and pummeled from every angle. He tries to curl up, but two of the boys stop kicking in order to hold him down. He’s on his stomach, with Alex pinning his hands and Lakers Jersey holding his legs. Hat-Boy snickers and Stiles hears his phone’s camera going off. He shouts and tries to get up, but these boys are much stronger. He doesn't want whatever they have planned for him; he wants this to end. 

What they have planned, apparently, is to sodomize him with his lacrosse stick. Stiles screams when he sees it out of the corner of his eyes, and Hat-boy leans over and puts a strip of duct tape over his mouth. The edges curl slightly from the moisture of Stiles’s tears, but it stays put. 

Hat-boy picks the stick up again. He kneels next to Stiles’s ass and spreads his cheeks with one hand. Stiles struggles more than ever before, but it’s to no avail. He feels the lacrosse stick prod his entrance and he sobs through the tape. “No no no no no no no no no, PLEASE” he cries. He's afraid he'll split in half, and his sobs are the most desperate they've ever been in his life.

Hat-boy has just started to push the stick into Stiles when Jackson’s voice interrupts. “I hear footsteps.” 

Hat-boy pulls the stick away reluctantly, and they flip Stiles over. Before he can even register that he’s not actually going to get fucked with a metal rod, there’s a switch knife at his throat. Alex leans over him and nicks Stiles’s neck with the blade. Stiles lets out a soft whimper. 

“You say anything, punk, and I’ll make you regret being born. You won’t be able to sit for a month by the time I get done with you.” 

Stiles nods hastily, and the boys beat feet. 

It takes Stiles a while to get up and get dressed. His whole body is tense, and he won’t be able to relax for a very long time. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Stiles starts dating Derek, he prays that things will be different. They started out slow, a few dates, hanging out on weekends. By the time they started kissing, it had been over a month since they started officially dating. 

Stiles loves kissing Derek. Derek is gentle and soft. He lets Stiles set the pace, and he never pushes Stiles to go deeper. Stiles sometimes cries at night, thinking about how much he doesn’t deserve Derek. He’s dreading the day Derek decides to take what he really wants from Stiles. 

It’s a Saturday night when it happens. They’re on Derek’s bed, making out frantically. Stiles is leaning against the pillows while Derek is on top of him, one knee on either side of Stiles’s body. Stiles isn’t 100% sold on the position, but this is the longest they’ve ever kissed, so he ignores the tiny ball of anxiety that rolls around in his stomach. 

Derek’s hands slowly push Stiles’s shirt up. Stiles swallows hard, but forces his own hands to do the same to Derek. He tells himself that his hands are shaking out of excitement. Derek adjusts himself so that he’s lying on Stiles more than sitting over him. He takes Stiles’s shirt off, and Stiles just deepens the kiss, hoping to distract himself. He takes Derek’s shirt off and if he’s being honest, the sight of Derek’s bare torso isn’t an awful thing. 

It’s only when Derek’s hands stray to Stiles’s pants that Stiles hesitates. He forces himself to stay calm as Derek unbuttons his jeans. He puts his hands on Derek’s chest, not pushing, but still defensive. Derek starts unzipping Stiles’s fly and all Stiles can think is no no no please stop—  
And then Derek is gone. Stiles opens his eyes to find Derek panting at the end of the bed. He’s obviously hard, but his face is open, not lusting. He looks at Stiles in concern, his head cocked slightly to the side. 

“why—Why did you stop?” Stiles manages to get out. He’s breathing heavily, but definitely not for the same reasons as Derek. 

“Because you told me to?” Derek says, like he’s not sure what Stiles’s question is about. 

“What?” 

“You said ‘stop’, Stiles.” Derek says this as though it's perfectly normal to back out in the middle of a heated moment. 

Stiles is desperate to keep Derek’s attention. He doesn’t care if he has to put out; this relationship is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—you didn’t have to stop. I don’t know why—We can keep going.” Stiles stumbles over his words. He’s fucked this up so bad. Derek just wanted Stiles, and Stiles said no for no reason. 

“Stiles, you said ‘stop’. Of course I had to stop. You didn’t want me to—I’m not going to keep going when my partner says stop,” Derek looks offended at the idea that he’d do what Stiles is suggesting. 

“No one else ever—” Stiles bites off the sentence, but it’s too late. Derek already looks like someone kicked his puppy. 

“Stiles?” 

“No, no one ever—” Stiles hesitates. He doesn’t want Derek to know how dirty he is, how he’s never been able to stop anyone from just taking what they wanted. He wants Derek to want him, not pity him. 

“Stiles, I would never do anything that you didn’t want, especially not in the bedroom. That’s—that’s rape.” 

Stiles shakes his head vehemently. “It’s not rape, it’s just—you want” he flails his arms to indicate the situation in front of them “this, so I should be fine with giving it to you. That’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what I agreed to when we started dating. You’re my boyfriend, you get to take what you want.” 

Derek looks sick by the time Stiles finishes his little rant. “No, baby, no. That’s not how this works. We both get to decide what we do. Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean you owe me anything. I want your full consent for everything.” 

“Well that’s never fucking mattered before!” Stiles bursts out. 

Derek flinches like he’s been slapped. “What do you mean, Stiles? Have I—Have I ever pushed you to do something you didn’t want? I never meant to—Please tell me I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t mean you,” Stiles interrupts. He looks down, not wanting to see Derek’s face when he realizes that Stiles is used goods. 

Derek sucks in a breath. “Who didn’t it matter for? What—did someone…” he trails off, unable to finish the thought. 

“It didn’t matter to Mr. Jacobs, or the van-guy, or Nick, or Katie, or or any of those three boys sophomore year—” Stiles is worked up now, and he knows he’s going to regret the majority of this conversation once his brain resumes functioning again. 

“What—Stiles, did all of those people hurt you?” Derek sounds distraught. “Why didn’t you say something—I never would have—” 

“Never would have what, Derek?” Stiles laughs dryly. “Never would have even looked at me? Believe me, I know. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be disgusted with me. I’ve let all those people touch me, why should I reject you? You deserve this, deserve to get what you want. I have no right to act like a prude now, not after slutting around with—” 

Derek shakes his head and lets out a wounded noise. “Stiles, I’m not disgusted. I’m just—I’m—you don’t deserve to have people just take what they ‘want’. You have the right to say no. I will always stop if you say no—” 

“That would make you the first in my life to do that, Derek. Logic tells me that you’re the anomaly, not them. I know the statistics for revictimization—I’m an outlier. That tells me that it’s something wrong with me, not everyone else. Just—either kiss me or kick me out, okay? I need to know—do you even still want me?” Stiles starts to get up, searching for his shirt. 

“Please, please don’t leave,” Derek says. 

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a breath. Then he starts unbuttoning his pants. Before he can get to the zipper, Derek’s hands are on his, stopping him. 

“Stiles, I don’t want sex if you don’t want it.” 

Stiles looks so lost by this that Derek wants to cry. How could this beautiful boy think that his own wants wouldn’t matter? How could he think that Derek would be okay with doing anything that Stiles didn’t want? Derek sighs and tries a different approach. 

“When I was 15, I met Kate Argent. She manipulated me and made me think that she loved me. She would call me a filthy animal whenever we would do anything intimate, she’d laugh at how stupid it was that she was in love with a teenager, and she would drop comments about my body and how I needed to improve myself if I wanted her to take me seriously. So when she finally got me in bed, I was so desperate for her approval that I did anything she wanted. I didn’t want to have sex, I wanted it to be special, my first time. Not something hidden and shameful, like she made our relationship feel. I felt like I had to have sex with her to be able to have any relationship with her. I hated myself, and I didn’t want to have sex. It tore me apart. I was relieved when she left me alone for an entire weekend—and then she burned my family to the ground. I was so desperate to keep her that I didn’t notice her planning the murder of everyone I ever loved. She made me feel guilty every time I said no to her. I don’t want you to ever feel like that, Stiles.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath, thinking things over. 

“I—I’m afraid of you, sometimes.” He admits. Derek looks like he might throw up, and Stiles hastens to explain. 

“I’m afraid of how you make me feel. You make me want things that I’ve never, I’ve never wanted before. Every time I’ve ever been—been intimate with—screw that. Every time I’ve ever been fucked or fucked someone it’s been because they didn’t listen when I said no. And wanting things—wanting to touch you terrifies me, because I don’t want our relationship to be like that. I don’t want to have sex with you, because I’m not going to want to have sex with you every time you want it. I can’t—I can’t lose this over that, Derek. I’m willing to give you anything you want, whenever you want it. You have to understand why that’s so hard for me.” 

“Stiles, you need to understand something. I will ALWAYS stop when you say no, because I don’t want to do any thing with you if you don’t want it. I could never—I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.”

Stiles is crying, and Derek cautiously hugs him. Stiles melts into his arms, letting out sobs and gasps for air. “I don’t—I don’t understand—“ he chokes out. 

Derek closes his eyes and squeezes Stiles even tighter. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’ll show you. You don’t ever need to be afraid of me. I’ll show you, if you let me.” 

Stiles nods. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It takes years for Stiles to fully trust that Derek will stop if Stiles asks. 

Stiles tests Derek, over and over again, but Derek never fails. He has never once argues when Stiles turns away, never tries to do anything Stiles rejects. 

Stiles says stop halfway through a makeout session. Derek finds a movie to watch instead. 

Stiles says stop when Derek has a hand on Stiles’s body in the middle of the night, and Derek rolls over, hugging a pillow instead. 

Stiles pulls off and says no in the middle of giving Derek a blowjob, and Derek hangs out alone in the bathroom for a solid ten minutes. 

Stiles says no when they’ve got their hands down each other’s pants, and Derek finds a book to read. 

Stiles says stop when they’re in the shower, masturbating, and Derek’s hands are quickly messing with the shampoo, body angled away. 

Stiles says stop when Derek is buried in him, and Derek pulls out without a word, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trash. 

Sometimes Stiles doesn’t say no. Sometimes he won’t say stop, no matter how badly he wants to. But Derek pays attention to every move, every breath. If Stiles shows the slightest hesitation, Derek slows down and gives Stiles an out. 

Stiles cries a lot during the first year of this. He asks Derek why no one else ever stopped, and Derek cries with him. They cry about all the things that have been done to Stiles. 

It takes three years, but Stiles eventually stops saying no. He stops testing Derek. He goes six months without ever saying stop. Derek’s giving him a blow job when Stiles is viciously reminded of the girl from freshman year, and he gasps out a quick stop. Derek stops, and waits for Stiles to breathe again. He asks Stiles if he’s okay, and Stiles starts crying. Derek immediately hugs him, shushing him softly and rocking them. 

“You’ll stop. You always stop. I thought—I never thought I’d have this,” Stiles chokes out. Derek just continues comforting Stiles, and they fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> SO! you made it!! 
> 
> Here's your sneak peek: 
> 
> "Stiles is dying, right here in front of Derek, and there’s nothing he can do.  
> He lays down next to Stiles’s unconscious form, and wraps his arms around him, pulling Stiles’s back against his chest. He lays there, humming softly in Stiles’s ear, songs that Laura and his mom would hum when Derek was sick. He hums, and he hears Stiles’s heart stutter, each beat further from the next, each beat threatening to be the last." 
> 
> MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA


End file.
